


Beyond

by hartrine



Category: game of thrones
Genre: F/M, Last Hearth, The Gift, Winterfell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:58:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8110267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hartrine/pseuds/hartrine
Summary: Marka of the Freefolk is told that she's coming on an adventure to cross the Wall. A raid on Castle Black is in plan, but once their group is betrayed, Marka is left behind to die.   Another one of her kind and a small boy take her in and nurse her back to health. They arrive at Last Hearth of House Umber, and that is when things get spontaneously difficult for each of them.





	1. The Crow

_**JON** _

There were different vibrations walking on the dirt. Somehow, everyone knew there was a man who did not belong. He passed through the camp wearing all black. His skin was pale as snow, his hair black as night. A giant passed him and a woman with a ginger hair slapped his back.

"First time seein' a giant, aye, Jon Snow?" The man dressed in black nodded. "Well don't stare too long, they're shy... And when they stop bein' shy, the get angry. And when they're angry they'll pound a man to tha ground like hammer on a nail." She smirked and kept walking.

The black dressed man gulped but continued to follow the woman and her group. They came to the biggest hut, where a girl with frizzy hair and pale skin sat sharpening a wooden stick. She was no older than eleven or twelve. Once the black dressed man stepped up, she immediately stood, pointing one of the sharp edges at his nose. A scowl crossed her face. The man looked scared. He couldn't stop staring at the girl's cloudy eyes. How white and empty they looked.

She was blind.

"We bringin' more and more crows e'ry day, Ygritte. When are ya gonna give it a break?" She poked the man's nose playfully, a grin crossing her face. He wondered how a blind girl was able to tell he was a man of the Watch. Maybe it was the way he walked. Maybe it was his breathing. "He to get 'is head on a spike? Can Ah do it meself?"

"Marka." This voice belonged to a man with a ginger beard. "He ain' 'ere ta get killed."

"Then what's 'e 'ere for, Tormund?" She tilted her stick underneath the man's chin. Another grin crossed her face. "Might have some ideas."

"He's 'ere to join us," Tormund replied. He scratched his beard and waved Marka away. "We want ta see Mance, move."

She pressed her stick against the man's neck, pricking it and drawing blood. He held wide eyes, thinking it was his last moment. After a pause, the girl burst out into laughter. "Oh I ain' gonna kill ya." She stepped aside. "Go on, then. Mance don't like ta wait."

_**MARKA** _

The girl waited until the fur door shuffled closed. Then she backed up slowly until her foot touch the log she sat on. She crouched, placing her hands on the side of the seat before sitting herself on it. She felt around for her rock and picked it up, feeling towards the end of the stick and sharpening it again.

Footsteps creeped up to her a moment later. Continuing to sharpen the stick, the girl sighed. "What do ya want?"

"Ygritte owes me friends and I a great deal o' fookin. She ain' been 'round. But... if she don't want to live up to 'er end of the deal... I guess you'll have ta do it for 'er. Never fooked a blind girl. I wonder what it's like." Marka could tell and sly grin crossed his face.

Her stick, fast as lightning was at his throat. She pressed harder, almost penetrating the skin. "Touch me," she said, her voice lingering, "and you and yer friends' heads'll make great food fer the ravens. Take yer pick."

"I meant no 'arm, girl. Just was playin' is all. I did get cha, didn't I?" He chuckled, leaving a raspy laugh behind and filling Marka's nostrils with hot breath that smelled of meat. "You can put yer stick down now, there ain' a need fer violence, blind girl."

She removed the stick from his throat, but twisted it around, smacking him in the jaw hard. He fell to the ground, holding his jaw. "Leave before I feed ya to tha walka's."

The man crawled to his feet, scurrying away. Marka smiled. Many men under estimated her because she was a blind girl. But many men did not know that Marka could tear the head off of a giant in seconds.

\---

"Winter is comin'." A phrase many men knew. The words of the North, the words of warning. Marka sat by a campfire, trying desperately to get warm in the frigid air. The new boy's name was Jon Snow, a bastard of a kingdom called Winterfell. Ned Stark's bastard. Marka learned that the Stark's ruled the north. Winter is coming. The words of their house.

"Winta' may be comin', boy, but the white walka's ain' waitin' fer yer mutt to take a shit," a voice replied. Marka stared ahead, watching the only thing she could see.

Fire.

"That's why we need to get everyone over the wall." This was Jon again. He was arguing again. Ever since they had been assigned their mission, he complained on and on about how winter was coming and how the white walkers would kill everyone.

"Even if we did get everyone ova' tha wall, you Kneelers would kill us all," Marka replied.

"Hey girl! You ain' got a word to say in tha matta o' decisions." Marka hated that voice. It was the same voice she had smacked in the face hours before.

She stood, facing the direction of the noise, but not quite facing the man who spoke. "I say whateva suites mah own fancy. I ain' 'fraid of you."

"Shut up and sit down, the both of ya. Tha lad's gotta point. If tha walkers are comin' then we gotta get out of the North." This was Ygritte.

Marka glared and then took a seat, staring back at the fire. It was comforting to her. Soon she fell asleep, waiting for the world to finally let her see.

\---

The next morning, Marka woke early. She sat up and watched the burning out fire as she waited for everyone to wake up. After a while, someone sat next to her. She didn't pay attention to him until he spoke out of the blue.

"What's it like... not being able to see?" The voice belonged to Jon Snow. Someone Marka knew Ygritte took a liking for. He wasn't as bad as some of the other men that were brought to their camp. He was nice and respecting.

"Nothin' special. Just darkness," her heavy accent thickened her words. "I could show if ya like." A sly grin cross her face as she pointed the tip of her stick in his direction.

"I'd rather you not," he said, his voice nervous.

She took the stick away. "Only jokin', Jon Snow." She paused and her face turned into a frown. "I don't like it. I don't like tha darkness. I'tall ways makes me afraid."

"Well, the world is cruel," the crow said, "trust me, you don't want to see it."

With that, he picked up his sword and went on a short patrol. Marka was left by the fire, watching as the orange flames died out. Then it was dark again, and the fear took in once more.


	2. The Broken Home

**_RICKON_ **

"We have to go." This was Osha. She was talking to Bran again. Rickon wasn't quite paying much attention, he was more focused on the apple he nibbled on.

Bran rubbed his eyes. "But we can't just leave Winterfell."

"Well your friend 'ere is tryna kill you and you're brotha. You'd rather that, little lord?" Bran shook his head.

"Come on, Rick, help me pack some clothes," he said with a sigh. Rickon put down his half eaten apple and began stuffing some of Bran's fur jackets into a backpack. They had been camping out in the ruins for a while, but now it was time to leave Winterfell for good.

Theon Greyjoy, the Stark's once beloved friend, had taken it over for his own house. Now he was determined to kill the little ones to prove himself to his father. Perhaps he would burn the whole place to the ground, Rickon didn't know. He was only eleven then. He didn't know much about the world yet. He knew there was much death and much destruction. He knew his father had been killed for being a falsely accused traitor, he knew his oldest brother and his mother were out fighting a war against the Lannisters. He knew his sisters Sansa and Arya were being held hostage in King's Landing.

He knew many harsh things about the world. He didn't know much about anything else. Only that apples were good and Shaggydog was his favorite pet he ever had. The black dire wolf was always at his side no matter where he was. It would be a shame if the dog were to die or disappear like Sansa and Arya's did. Before their father left, each of the Stark children were given a dire wolf. Even his half brother Jon Snow got one. The runt who he named Ghost.

Rickon heaved the bag over his shoulder. "I don't want to go," he whispered to his brother. "I want to wait here for Mother to return."

"We can't, little lord," said Osha.

"Hodor," Hodor said, agreeing with the wildling servant.

She had been good to the Stark boys ever since her patrol was killed by Rickon's oldest brother Robb. He was the one out fighting in the war. Rickon wondered if he'd ever see them again. When his father left for King's Landing, Rickon had high hopes of him returning one day with Sansa as the queen and Arya as a well dressed lady. This time, he had his doubts.

Rickon missed his father dearly, he wished that they had never left Winterfell and the King had never died and the Lannisters had never taken over with the False Boy King. His name was Jeoffery. Rickon knew the boy from when he came to Winterfell, the days before his father and sisters left. He was mean. He flicked Rickon's ear each time he passed him. Rickon hated him.

"We must leave now, little lords," Osha said, peaking her head out the door.

"Osha, what are you doing?" Bran called, but the wilding already left their hiding place. Hodor followed her out, Rickon close behind.

The sight almost left him in tears. It turns out Theon really had the guts to burn Winterfell to the ground. Beams and boards were everywhere. Dead people, people he knew, lied about the mud drenched in blood. Smoke dusted the air and nothing looked alive. His home... it was finally gone. There was no where else to go.

Rickon heard his wolf whimper. Summer, Bran's dire wolf, cried as well. They followed the dogs until they reached the God's Tree. There, sitting at the foot of it was Maester Luwin, sitting lifeless as blood poured out of his stomach. Rickon ran towards the old man, and Osha tried to hold him back. But he was too upset, and too scared to let her. He reached the old man's side and the Maester smiled when they came.

"Tell us what medicine to get you from your chamber," Bran said sternly. Rickon felt tears creeping down his cheeks. This man was his _friend_ and he was _dying_. How many more of his friends had to die before the world was finally at peace?

"We'll make you better," Rickon said, dread in his voice. The little lord could hardly stand looking at his friend like this.

"I feel just fine," the Maester replied, nodding his head. Rickon bowed his head, ashamed of crying.

"They burned it down," Bran said quickly. "They burned _everything_." Rickon could tell his brother was upset, but he was better at hiding his emotions than Rickon.

"Not everything," Luwin said, a stern look on his face, "not you." Rickon felt more tears falling from his cheeks. He wished there was something he could do. Anything to help his friend. "But they may come back," the Maester continued, "so you have to go. Bring your warmest clothes. Pack as much food as you can carry and go _North_."

"North is the wrong way," Osha butted in. "They're motha and brotha are _South_."

"We don't know where," Luwin argued. "There are too many enemies in the South. Go to the Wall. Go to Jon. He'll keep you safe and let your mother know you are safe."

"I don't want to leave you," Bran said, grabbing the maester's hand.

"No more than I want to leave you," the Maester said. His words were stern, but full or sorrow and fear. Rickon could tell. "I pulled you into the world. Both of you. I've seen your faces almost every day since. And for that, I consider myself very... very lucky." He paused. "Go on now," he shooed, "go with Hodor. Go. _I'll be right here_." Rickon smiled at the Maester, though it was a sadden smile. The Maester placed his wrinkly fingers on the boy's head and wiped his tears away.

Hodor whispered to the boy and took his hand, walking him away. When they were at the tree line, Rickon turned and saw Osha giving the Maester what he wished for. More tears fell from his eyes. _I'm sorry_ , he thought, _I'm sorry for everything_.

And they left their home. They left it in shambles and burned wood. Smoke rose from the city as they passed it. The rolling hills barely climbable. Rickon turned back, wishing he could see his family happy in their home once more. And this time, he knew that would never happen again. His home was broken, and Rickon was slowly heading down the same path to brokenness.


	3. The Wildling

**_MARKA_ **

"You ever climb the wall before?" Jon Snow asked Ygritte.

They sat in the forest at the foot of the Wall. Everyone was gathering together and putting equipment on. Marka say patiently on a log, waiting for Ygritte to help her. She had to admit, she was scared. Climbing the wall wasn't her favorite thing in the world. She had climbed it almost a dozen times with Tormund before, and she knew there was nothing to worry about. Tormund would protect her. Like he always did.

There was still a pit in her stomach as nerves took over her. Anxiety bubbled inside, though she told herself to stay calm. She told herself over and over about the amazing air that she felt at the very top. She couldn't wait to feel the air again. The slight breeze through her thick curls, the cool air chilling her skin.

She tried to take her mind off the climb while listening to Ygritte and Jon Snow. Maybe if she looked towards her feet, it wouldn't seem like she was listening in.

"Not meself, but Tormund and Marka's climbed it half a hundred times or so," Ygritte replied. There was a small paused before Ygritte started talking again. "Oh don't hold that face, _Jon Snow_. If a blind girl can do it, Ah'm sure you can too."

"I know, I'm just..." His voice trailed off.

"You're afraid," Marka finished for him. She stared straight, not turning her head like Jon expected it.

It was hard for her not to cut in. She said what she was feeling. Afraid. Fear. Anxiousness.

"Aren't you?" Jon retorted.

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Ev'ry time, _Jon Snow_ ," Marka replied. "S'along way up and along way down."

"And you, Ygritte?"

"Aye," Ygritte replied. "But I've waited me whole life to see the world from up there."

"S'nothin' special," Marka said, a grin on her face.

"Comin' from a blind girl," Ygritte scoffed. She hoisted her equipment above her head. After it was on, she walked up to Marka and ruffled her frizzy brown hair. Marka smiled. Then Ygritte helped the girl with her equipment. After Marka was ready, Ygritte began attaching her own shoes. "Here, I got you a pair. They might be a bit big." Marka sat back down on the same log and looked at the ground again. She wished there was fire around. Marka decided to listen to what was going on around her again. Maybe after some entertainment, she'd start bothering Ygritte again.

She was always good to her. She treated Marka like her own. Ygritte found her one day while deciding on a detour across the mountain. She was just a girl then, probably about Marka's age. Her father was teaching her how to hunt. Marka was buried in furs when they found her. She was just a baby, barely a year old. They took her in, they raised her. Marka felt lucky. She felt lucky to be apart of their family. They were always good. Always kind. Treated her like their own even though she couldn't see.

"Did you kill someone for them?" Jon Snow joked.

"Nah... but I bet his balls are still bruised," Ygritte replied. Marka and Jon both chuckled. There was a silent pause. "He wasn't good to me the way you're good to me. He didn't do that thing you did with your _tongue_."

Marka couldn't help but smirk. She had known they got together in the hot springs. Tormund had told her. She thought they would make a good family together.

"Can we not talk about that here?" Jon said quietly. Marka could tell his eyes were on her. She smiled again.

" _Can we not talk about that here_?" Ygritte repeated, mocking him in a deep voice. "Oh, I'm Jon Snow. I've killed dead men and Qhorin Halfhand but I'm scared of naked girls." Marka giggled.

"Quit it," Jon said.

"We was only playin' around," Ygritte replied with a sly smile.

"Don't worry, Jon Snow, you're secrets safe with me," Marka said.

"What secret?"

There was a long pause. "There are more than one secrets comin' from you, Jon Snow. Do you think we're as dumb as some o' tha silk dress wearing girls from behind the Wall?" Ygritte said strictly, sitting on the log. "Now I've helped raise this littl' girl with Tormund since _I_ was just a girl. She's smart. I know her. And I know you. You're loyal. And you didn't stop being a crow when Mance pronounced you free."

She paused. "I'm your woman now, Jon Snow. And Marka's ma famaly. You're loyal to your famaly. Do you think the Watch cares whether you die or not? Do you think Mance cares? They don't. We're just more soldiers in their armies. We're replaceable. Famaly isn't." Marka heard a small kiss against his cheek.

"Don't betray ever us, Jon Snow," the wildling said.

The words she spoke were sincere. Every man Ygritte had ever been with left them. It wasn't like they needed someone. But Ygritte felt responsible for Marka. And she needed a father figure. Marka needed someone who was brave and strong and would protect her at all costs. Ygritte could be all of those things, and more. But Ygritte knew she wouldn't be alive forever. She knew she needed a back up.

"Or I'll cracked your head against me axe and bury ya along with it," Marka said with a grin.

"And I'll chop you're pretty cock off and wear 'em 'round me neck. How's that sound?" There was a giggle from Jon. Marka smiled. It was nice to see Ygritte with someone who was good.

Marka heard footsteps approaching them. They were steps of Tormund. He was back. He gave some advice to Jon. "And if you fall," he said slyly, "don't scream. You don't want that to be the last thing she remembers." He paused for affect before bursting out into laughter. Marka followed with his laugh. He turned and walked back to the wall, patting Marka's back. "C'mon girl, let's go conquer this ice one more time."

Marka smiled and stood up, close at his heels. "What will you do after Castle Black is taken?" She asked.

"Settle down. Find me a girl to fook." He chuckled. "What about you, aye, blind girl?"

"I dunno," Marka shrugged. "Stay with Ygritte. Get me a horse ta ride."

"A horse aye?"

"Never ridden one. Seems like a good time. Wind through your hair, hands on 'er mane. Sounds glorious." Marka smiled, almost feeling the breeze.

"You sure love the wind," Tormund said with a chuckle.

"That I do," Marka replied. "It makes me feel alive."

Tormund smiled, admiring the girl. "Let's climb this wall, aye blind girl?" Marka nodded. He put a protective arm around her and guided up to the ginormous glacier. She felt the chillness of the ice when they got close. She always loved the feeling it gave off when she was near. She place her glove against it, feeling the chips of ice melting into her furs. A smile crossed her face. Marka was excited.

She was to go first like she always did. That way, in case she slipped, Tormund would be right there to steady her and tell her where to put her foot. It worked last time they climbed it. Her claws hadn't gone deep enough into the ice and her foot fell, but she caught herself. Tormund luckily guided her on where to keep going.

Marka hooked her axe above her into the ice and stepped up. She made sure her face was always inches from the ice, that way she wouldn't hang off. She hooked her other axe up and pulled herself along with her other foot. And so began the small routine of hooking and stepping, hooking and stepping, hooking and stepping and latching the rope, hooking and stepping, hooking and stepping, hooking and stepping and latching the rope.

This routine went on for about an hour. Not much has happened. Tormund chipped a piece of ice from the wall and made it fall onto Jon Snow. Though Marka couldn't see it, she could hear it. She laughed. Tormund always tortured the newbies. She remember when he chipped a piece down to her. Marka had almost fallen. At the time she was barely nine. It was cruel, but it helped her make sure she had a steady grip.

Marka hooked her axe above her and stepped up, pounding one of the rope latches into the ice. She paused, feeling uneasy.

"We'll keep goin' girl, we haven't got all day," Tormund called up to her.

"Somethings wrong," she said. "The wall... It's, it's vibrating."

"S'always vibrating," he responded, his voice annoyed.

"No, Tormund. It's... different." With that she heard a loud rumbling sound. Something that never happened before. "Tormund, what's going on!" There was no response and suddenly she felt a tight pull on her stomach. She screeched and clung tightly to her axes. "Tormund!" She heard him grunting.

"We have to cut 'em loose!" That was Orell.

Marka's heart jumped. Ygritte and Jon were below him. They were in trouble. "No!" She screamed. "Ya can't! Ygritte's down there!" Tormund grunted again, his voice sounding like he agreed with Marka. "Orell, no!"

She felt the rope vibrating and shaking. She knew he was cutting it. "Orell, stop it!" She begged. Marka had lost friends before, but Ygritte... she couldn't lose Ygritte. "Tormund, please, don't lett'im do this!"

Marka pressed her face to the ice and whispered, begging the Gods not to take Ygritte away. She heard Ygritte's scream she squeezed her eyes shut. They only closed when she slept, and she felt safe she she slept. So she squeezed them tightly, breathing against the wall. Silence followed. The wind howled against her pink ears. It blew her frizzy hair in all direction. Not Ygritte. Anything but Ygritte.

A minute passed and still no one told her to continue climbing. She had lost friends to the wall. Every time they fell, Tormund would tell her to keep on climbing. Marka felt the ice melt against her hot lips. It tasted salty and bitter.

"It's alright, Marka," Tormund called up to her. "She's alright. Jon's gott'er." Marka still didn't move. "It's alright, keep going, blind girl."

"Ygritte!" She screamed as loud as she could. Until she heard her voice, she wasn't climbing higher.

"Ah'm alright!" A faint voice yelled. "Jon's got may! Ah'm alright!"

Marka opened her eyes slowly. She peeled her face from the sticky ice and continued climbing, trying to hide her relief. The snow blazed on.


	4. The Windmill

**_MARKA_ **

There was wind rushing through her hair. A smile spread across her face. Behind her, she felt Tormund pulling on the reigns, halting the horse they rode. The raining was pouring down. Thunder clapped above. Marka had never felt rain before. She only knew snow. It was strange getting wet from the sky, drenching her cloths. Even though she had been South of the Wall a few times, there had never been any rain for her to feel.

"We find 'im?" Marka asked.

They were chasing an old man who they stole horses from. He was a good rider, but not as good as Tormund and his patrol. Behind her, she felt Tormund slid off the horse and she suggested she was right. Marka climbed down as well, staying close to the horse.

"C'mere, Marka," Ygritte called from behind the girl. Marka held out her arm and Ygritte took it. She guided the girl to where the old man was laying the mud. Marka gripped her spear tightly.

Orell complained about hearing shouting, but Tormund quickly denied it and said that it was merely just thunder. Orell snapped back, and the subject was then dropped. All focus turned towards the old man. Marka heard the _schling_ of a knife being drawn. Ygritte dropped her arm and Marka figured she raised her bow.

"That won't help ya, Grandpa," Tormund said. His voice was far off, like his was opposite of Marka. A pause followed and Marka heard the knife being thrown. "Where were you riding?" Tormund continued.

"Doesn't matter know, does it?" This voice was unfamiliar. It must've been the old man's voice. He didn't quite sound like an old man if Marka was honest with herself.

"No," Tormund agreed. "It doesn't matter now."

"Cut 'is throat," Orell said quickly, "or 'e'll tell tha crows we're 'ere."

There was another _schling_. "You understand," Tormund said.

"Let me stand at least," the old man said. "Let me go with a bit of dignity." She heard moaning as he stood. He was injured. She wondered where.

"Make the crow kill 'im," Orell said. "You're one of us now, prove it." His voice got significantly closer, like he approached Jon. Marka knew he was standing next to her. She could hear is heavy breathing. He was nervous.

Another _schling_ , this time much closer. Jon had gotten his sword out. "She looks sharp," the old man complimented. There was a pause and then the man began to whisper a prayer.

"Do it," Ygritte said, her words sharp and stern. She was doubting him. Marka began to doubt his trust as well. He had been acting stranger and more distant since they climbed the wall.

Tormund and Orell doubted him to. Jon still wouldn't kill the old man. She felt air above her head. He swung the sword back, but still wouldn't swing forward. Marka had enough. He obviously wasn't going to kill the man. She stepped close and then dug her spear into the man's chest. More _schlings_ followed her actions, and she felt a rough hand pull her back.

"He's a crow. And 'e's got 'is crow wife and 'is crow daughter with 'em," Orell said. "And 'e'll stab us in tha back first chance 'e gets."

There was a pause. Marka held up her spear. Ygritte wasn't telling her to move. If Ygritte was with Jon, then Marka was too.

"Kill 'im," Tormund said, betrayal coating his voice.

She was scared, she hadn't been in a fight in a while. The darkness made her weak, but she was able to duck when Jon Snow went to push her and Ygritte out of the way. She pressed her back against his, waiting for the shifts in the air to come close.

"Go with Ygritte!" He yelled above the clanking of swords.

"She trusted you, so I will too," Marka replied. The air moved and she ducked, hitting a man in the face. Jon's back left her's and she was alone, fighting off whoever tried to kill her.

She could hear Ygritte yelling her name, but she couldn't stop now. She ducked, then stuck her spear into the man's heart. He doubled back in pain and collapsed. Marka smiled, but only for a second. Her body shook as she felt it.

A stinging pain at the bottom of her side. Something solid had stuck it's way through her.  She couldn't feel pain, but she felt it through her. All Marka wondered who was brave enough to stick their sword through a little girl's side. The sword left her body. Her knees buckled quickly and she collapsed on the ground. Her body filled with throbbing then, as if the quick numbness had left.

Marka took in heavy breaths, scared to seven hells. When someone was stuck with a sword, they usually didn't live.

She heard Ygritte screaming, Tormund right after her. In the distance, she heard groaning and collapsing and yelling and then a horse galloping away. She wondered what had happened. Who had stuck her. Who groaned, who collapsed, who yelled, who galloped away. She wondered if it was Jon. She wondered if he betrayed them.

She felt someone lift her off the ground into cradling arms. "Marka, Marka. You there?" It was Ygritte.

Marka's breathing increased. She panted heavily as she knew what was in stake for her. "Ygritte, don't leave." She begged, gripping her hands onto the woman's soaked coat. " _Please, don't leave me_." The pain was getting stronger. She knew her body was trying to heal itself, but the blood was pouring out too much.

"I'm not goin' anywhere, Marka. I'm staying right 'ere until you get betta. Then we can go kill Jon Snow togetha." Marka nodded, tears following out of her eyes. She was right, it was Jon who betrayed. She knew he couldn't be trusted.

"Ygritte, we have to go." It was Tormund. He sounded hurt and angry. "Ygritte."

"I can't leave 'er!" Marka was growing tired. She let her hand slip away from Ygritte's coat, too sore to cling on. "I can't..."

"She's can't walk! An' tha bastard is gettin' away," Tormund said. "We'll come back for 'er. We 'ave to go get Jon!"

Ygritte let go of Marka hard, like she had been pulled back. The little girl grabbed for the woman, but she was too far away. Marka heard her screaming. It slowly faded away, and then she was silent. Marka whispered to the sky, asking her not to leave. But Ygritte and Tormund had already galloped away.

**_RICKON_ **

The screaming that followed the fight was almost endless. Rickon's ears only heard a woman calling a girl's name until it finally faded. "Tormund! We can't just leave 'er! Marka! I'll come back for ya! I promise!"

They were camped inside the windmill and outside, a fight had broken out.

Rickon wondered what had happened. He wondered who Marka was. What happened to her. Rickon could barely pay attention to what his brother and a boy they met called Jojen Reed were talking about.

The boy and his sister approached them and spoke to his brother about his powers one day.

Suddenly, Bran became obsessed with knowing more. He hardly talked to Rickon anymore. It made him sad, he and his brother were close. It had been days since they had a real conversation. Rickon had spent his time by himself or talking to Osha. She taught him how to skin a rabbit and he was quite pleased with himself.

"Rickon," Bran suddenly said. He turned to his brother. Rickon turned too, excited to talk to him. "When I was looking through Summer's eyes, I saw Jon!"

Rickon's eyes lit up. "Where?" He asked excitedly. Jon was merely his half brother, but any family at this point, Rickon would be happy to see.

"He was with the wildlings. They tried to kill him, but he got away," Bran explained.

"He'll be headin' back to Castle Black then," Osha said. Rickon turned to her. "That's where we should go."

"For all we know Castle Black could be under attack. With this many wildlings—"

Osha cut him off. "I already told you," she said sternly, "I'm not going north of tha Wall."

Bran eyed her. "Everything Jojen told me is true. You saw what I did to Hodor. We have to find the three eyed raven."

Osha took his hand. "Listen to me, little lord," she said kindly.

"Don't worry," Bran said, a sympathetic smile on his face, "I'm not asking you to come with me. It won't be safe for Rickon."

Rickon's heart dropped. Suddenly, he almost felt scared. "Me?" He asked sharply. "I'm comin' with you."

"No," said Bran strictly. "You and Osha and Shaggydog head for the Last Hearth, the seat of House Umber. They're our banner man and they are loyal."

Rickon refused. "I'm coming with you," he said flatly. "You're my _brother_. I have to protect you."

"Right now, I have to protect _you_ ," Bran said. "Robb's at war and I'm going beyond the Wall. If something happens to us, you're the heir to Winterfell." He turned to Osha and Rickon was on the verge of tears. He couldn't leave his brother. What if this would be the last time they saw each other? "You know where to find the Last Hearth?"

"You Southeners build your big castles and don't move," said Osha, "you're easy to find."

Rickon stood, his face holding angry. How dare she call them that. Southeners killed his father. "We're _not_ Southeners," he snapped. He turned to his brother. "And I'm not leaving you!"

He felt hands against his waist as Osha calmed him. Tears were finally slipping their ways out of his eyes. She sat him on her lap. "Shh. C'mere, little solider. You and me? We're gonna have some adventures." Rickon couldn't smile. He was too upset, and too afraid to leave his brother.

"You don't have to do this," Bran reminded Osha.

"You're family took me in and were kind to me, when they had no cause to be." Osha paused as Rickon cried harder. "Shh shh shh. We'll be fine, you and me. The Umbers are great warriors," she lied, "even I heard about them growin' up. They'll teach you how to swing a sword."

"I know how to swing a sword," Rickon said frustratingly.

She kissed his forehead and helped him stand. "You're leaving now?" Bran asked as she picked up a sack. "It's the middle of the night!"

"I've learned to walk in darkness," Osha explained. She kissed Rickon's forehead again. "Go on now, say your goodbyes."

Rickon knelt down to his brother and collapsed in his arms. He hugged him tightly, knowing he would most likely never see Bran again. "I'm sorry, Bran. I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," his brother answered. "Don't worry about me. When we meet again, _I'll be right here_."

Rickon left the hug and looked into his brother's eyes. When Bran nodded, he noticed the sadness and the regret in them. Rickon stood and Osha wrapped her arm around him.

"Come on, little lord," she said, leading him down the stairs.

**_MARKA_ **

Breathing calmed her. Though she couldn't keep a steady breath, she reminded herself to breath. Hours had passed since Ygritte left her. She knew she wasn't coming back. They had left her to die. She pressed harder on her side, covering her hand in more blood. She wondered what it felt like, when she died. If it would be painful, if it would be peaceful.

Suddenly, there were footsteps on the mud. Small and quite vibrations. "Ygritte?" She called. "Tormund?" She found herself pausing. "Jon?" She tried, wondering if he had come back for her.

The footsteps stopped.

"No, little lord," a voice said sternly. She was a woman. She held the same accent as Marka.

"She's hurt," another replied. He was a boy. His accent was foreign and formal. Much like Jon's voice.

"If they left her, it means she's dead."

"But she spoke!"

"Bran will find her, little lord. We must hurry and leave."

"W-Wait!" Marka called out. "Please... Please I need your help."

The footsteps began again, but this time it was only one pair. The ran quickly towards her.

"Rickon!" The woman called. Then another pair walked over, too.

"What's wrong?" The boy asked. He knelt down beside her. Marka lifted up her bloodied hand, revealing her wound.

"It hurts," she said quietly.

"We'll find you some milk of the Poppy," the boy, who was named Rickon she presumed, said. "We can help." He took her hand. His skin was gentle and warm.

Marka nodded. "Thank you."

Rickon let go of her hand as she was lifted from the ground. "You are a lucky lady you are," the woman said. Her voice was thick and Marka could have sworn she recognized the woman's voice. "If I 'adn't climbed the wall with you, I would've left you ta die." She heard the woman's lips part in a smile.

"O-Osha?" Marka _did_ recognize the woman's voice. It was Osha! She had climbed the Wall with her last time. Marka remembered her as a kind woman who wanted an escape with her friends. Tormund let them join but for a price. She remembered they gave her one of their friends hands after the climb was over. She wondered where her patrol was now.

"Tha's me, blind girl," Osha replied.

Marka felt herself moving. Osha must have started walking. Marka didn't want to ask where Osha's patrol was. She figured they were dead, or she wouldn't be traveling with a small boy with a foreign accent. Marka's hand fell from its resting place and hung to the ground. She felt the same skin touch her hand again. At first she tried to pull away, scared at the action, but then, she softened and let the boy comfort her.

Soon, the calming movements of Osha's steps and the gentle touch of Rickon's fingers, drifted her to sleep. And this time, she wasn't afraid of not waking up.


	5. Chapter 5

Mackenzie Foy as Marka

Miles Teller as Narrow Umber

Kaya Scodelario as Raine Umber

Karen Gillian as Larandre

Chandler Riggs as Weston Stryder

Jaelyn Behun as Quinn Stryder

 

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DISCLAIMER  
All rights to Game Of Thrones goes to George R.R. Martin while all rights to the character Marka and changed events in the fanfiction go to me, Hanna Rinehart (aka hartrine).

Read at your own risk.


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